


The Other Mockingjay

by MockingJayFlyingFree



Series: The Other Mockingjay [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, babywearing!Katniss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:29:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MockingJayFlyingFree/pseuds/MockingJayFlyingFree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss and Peeta weren't reaped for the Quarter Quell. Instead, they were forced by Snow to get married as soon as they turned 18. How does their marriage change the future of Panem? Will there still be a rebellion - when Snow is controlling the Mockingjay?</p><p>Best Shower Smut nominee - Round 2 of the Everlark Smut Awards.<br/>Best Mockingjay Fic  - Nightlock Reader's Choice Awards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A breakfast to remember

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on FFN only, but I have (finally) decided to crosspost an edited version here on AO3. It is unbetaed, and I apologize in advance for any mistakes. 
> 
> When I wrote The Wedding, I was determined not to write a sequel. I wanted to leave it all up to the reader’s imagination – what happened after Katniss and Peeta’s wedding night? But of course, I kept getting PMs and reviews with questions… Which made me start wondering too. 
> 
> Well, one thing led to another, and The Other Mockingjay ended up at 40 chapters and nearly 200,000 words...
> 
> What started out as just a sequel to The Wedding got completely out of hand, and became an alternate Catching Fire and Mockingjay. 
> 
> TOM was nominated for an Everlark Smut Award in Round 2 (in the Best Shower Smut category) and won a Nightlock Reader’s Choice Award in the Best Mockingjay Fic category.
> 
> If you haven’t read The Wedding already, I strongly suggest that you do so now, before you start reading.

There's a fire burning inside me. It was first lit by the Hunger Games. Later, I saw with my own eyes the contrast between the starving children in District 12 and the revolting extravagance of the Capitol. It continued with the closed, gaunt, hungry faces I saw on our Victory Tour of the districts. With the other victors, when I saw how many of them simply haven't been able to live a normal life after the Games. Broken, drugged, sold, destroyed.

But most of all, my fire was lit by President Snow, who is ultimately behind both the murders in the arena and the injustice and starvation in Panem.

I will never forget what he made Peeta and me do yesterday. I will never forgive.

I look across the table, at Prim, looking far too pretty - and far too mature. She's 14 already. When did she stop being a little girl?

She's still of reaping age. She will be for years.

I know that Snow has the upper hand. As long as he can use our families against us, he is in effect holding us hostage. I look at Peeta out of the corner of my eye as he’s chatting with my mother and Prim over breakfast. Peeta is just so… amiable. He knows exactly how to make people feel at ease. He's even made my mother relax.

I blush as I think about the things he did to me last night, with his tongue and his hands and his cock, and I'm a bit surprised that he can to talk to my  _mother_  this morning as if nothing's happened.

"I've never had a son, Peeta," I hear her tell him, "but I'm so happy to have one now, and I really can't wait for you to be part of our family." I look down. Our family is torn, broken and incomplete. Now that's really something to be a part of. It sounds like she actually means it, though. She's clearly fallen for Peeta’s irresistible charm. I've got to give it to him, he's great with people.

At least my mother is trying, unlike the woman who just became my mother-in-law.

"Mrs. Mellark has never had a daughter before either," Prim says, looking over at Peeta's mother. "Won't it be wonderful to have a daughter, Mrs. Mellark?"

I have to bite my lip to keep a sarcastic remark back, and for a split second, Peeta's mother looks like she's eaten a lemon. Then she regains her composure. "Absolutely," she answers, but her voice is cold and hard. Even Peeta can't think of anything to say to smooth it over, and there's an uncomfortable silence around the table.

Surprisingly, President Snow is the one who breaks the silence. "It certainly was a fairytale wedding," Snow says, and for a second I wonder where he's going with this. Snow never says anything to smooth things over. There is always a purpose, a hidden meaning. "That was quite a performance yesterday, Mr. and Mrs. Mellark." I freeze at his words, as does Peeta.

So Snow does know. He has probably seen the footage of us already. I know Snow isn’t talking about the wedding itself – he is referring to what happened last night. "It was really heartwarming to see the star-crossed lovers promising to love each other… until death do you part, as they say."

I finally manage to bring up the courage to look at Snow, he's sitting on the opposite side of the table, two chairs down from my mother.

His warning is crystal clear.

"Yesterday was a dream come true," Peeta says. He suddenly turns to me, his eyes are nearly black. I can see how he's trying very hard to control his anger. He knows what's at stake.

It's the intensity of the kiss that takes me by complete surprise, more than the fact that he kisses me in itself. My first reaction is to resist because it's so sudden and unexpected, but his strong hands, one on my hip and the other around my shoulders, don't allow me to move away from him. The kiss is a shockingly indiscreet public display of affection, here in front of our families, but still I allow his probing tongue to invade my mouth. I can feel his anger, I can almost taste it.

Even this morning, Snow is mocking us, by calling what happened between us last night a _performance_.

It would be so easy to get lost in Peeta’s kiss, but I have to try to smooth things over. There is too much at stake, it's too dangerous. I'm also very much aware of the fact that my little sister is watching us, as is my mother. Not to mention _his_ mother… And the rest of his family.

There is too much at stake here. They are all so vulnerable. And Peeta and I are vulnerable because of them.

I break the kiss with a laugh, pretending to sound embarrassed and happy like I imagine a blushing bride on the morning after her wedding is supposed to be, when her husband displays to the world just how much he desires her. Did he really read Effie's stupid book? I wonder. "Peeta, honey… Not when everyone’s here…." I try to sound like one of those airheads in Capitol soap operas. I feel disgusted with myself, but this is a show, too.

I have to play my part.

I meet his eyes, and the anger is still there. My hand gives his shoulder a warning squeeze.

Get it together.

"Sorry, Katniss, but you know… Hard to resist," he answers with a smile. Saying something like that in public is so unlike him, but he's back in the act. Of course, our public display of affection is also playing it right up the Capitol alley. This is what everyone in the Capitol expects us to do.

Finnick Odair's impossibly sea green eyes are twinkling at me from across the table. 

"So, where are you going on your honeymoon?" Effie says, and I want to hug her for coming to our rescue. It’s clearly deliberate, because she knows everything about our schedule, including the fact that we’re all booked on a train to 12 later today.

"We're actually not going on a honeymoon," I tell her, and Effie widens her eyes in fake shock. Going on a honeymoon is another one of those stupid Capitol rituals – where newlyweds go to an exotic holiday destination to have wild and complicated sex for two weeks before they return home and their life of domestic boredom begins. This is of course something which is totally unheard of in District 12. First of all, you can't leave the district at all without a permit, which you won't get. And even if you could get a permit, no one would be able to afford it. "Honeymoon" is simply a word that doesn't exist in the District 12 vocabulary.

"We did consider it, but then we agreed that what we really wanted was to begin our life together as a married couple home in 12," Peeta tells her, and I can tell he's truly back on track now.

The reality is that our honeymoon had already been booked, though obviously not by us. We were going to a holiday resort on the beach in District 4. The TV crew had even been booked, the publicity plan was ready. But suddenly, just two days ago, the honeymoon was cancelled, and no one would tell us why. Not that Peeta and I minded, we just wanted to go home as soon as possible anyway, but there is something not quite right about it all.

"That's really too bad," Effie says apologetically, and then goes on to tell everyone excitedly about all her three honeymoons. I exhale, relieved. I can always count on Effie to talk about nothing forever, keeping everyone occupied and thereby avoiding sensitive subjects.

Our train back to District 12 leaves in the afternoon, and I can't wait to be on it. I'm exhausted. I hate this place.

Effie keeps everyone talking about honeymoons, rude servants and how terrible salt water is for her hair for the rest of the meal. She gets into a heated discussion with Johanna about the virtues of salt water versus fresh water, which is quite entertaining for a while. Between the two of them, they manage to keep everyone busy enough to stay off potentially embarrassing or dangerous subjects.

From the stolen looks Johanna sends me, I suspect it's not a coincidence. She's trying to help me out, and I feel so grateful that she's talking to Effie, who I know she detests, to help us. I think Effie is doing the same thing, too, even though I don't think she's talked to Johanna about it in advance. Effie does love attention, that's true, but this is much, even for her.

Finnick is the first to leave the table. He waves a white envelope in the air, winks and says he has some business to attend to.

Peeta squeezes my hand under the table. I have to fight back tears.

Before he leaves, Finnick comes over to Peeta and me, saying he wants to say goodbye in case he doesn't have time to catch us before our train leaves in the afternoon. First he shakes hands with Peeta, and then he gives me a kiss on each cheek, each of them lasting just a little bit too long. After the second one, he doesn’t move away from me. Instead, he cocks his head, looks down at the curve of my neck, and inhales deeply. He closes his eyes as if to savor my scent, like I'm an exquisite flower. "Mmmmm, you smell nice, Katniss," he says in that seductive voice of his. "You smell like you're… ripe. Finally." I freeze. What on earth is he talking about?

He laughs when he sees that I don't understand. "You have always been so pure, but… You're not quite as pure this morning as you were yesterday, are you?" I blush furiously, I can't believe he'd say something like that in front of everyone – especially our _mothers_.

"Finnick!" I hiss, and Peeta seems to be choking on his orange juice.

"Just give me a call if you need any advice, Peeta. Although by the looks of your bride this morning, it’s probably not necessary.” He winks at me, and then leaves the room with a huge grin on his face.

I'm close to tears, and Peeta is blushing furiously. My mother observes me closely with a slightly puzzled look in her eyes though. I know she must be thinking about the conversation we had yesterday. She looks… worried. My mother is a lot of things, but she's not stupid. She knows that something is up, but she doesn't know what exactly is going on. There are a lot of things about the Capitol that she doesn't know about – such as how victors are treated. She still believes at least most of the lies we have all been told all our lives: That victors are being treated nearly like royalty, living the rest of their lives in luxury.

Reality, however, is quite different. I have to try to keep the truth away from her, but I don't know if I can. Peeta's mother, on the other hand, looks both angry and embarrassed, and his two brothers are the only people in the room who are laughing openly.

"Well, it's time for me to leave this party too," Johanna says. I had thought that nothing Johanna Mason does could surprise me anymore, but I find that I’m wrong when she suddenly opens the zipper of her dress, which falls to the floor. Underneath it, she is stark naked. "Are you two coming?"

I just stand there, frozen, too stunned to reply. Peeta, though, doesn’t miss a beat. He smiles and briefly thanks everyone for attending our wedding and as well as this breakfast, making a lame excuse about us having to pack our things before our train leaves.

All we have is one overnight bag each. We can't use our Capitol clothes in 12, and we can't use our own clothes in the Capitol. Needing several hours to pack is clearly excessive. What Peeta is actually doing is running away from this breakfast, which has been nothing but embarrassing and awkward. Although following a naked Johanna seems inappropriate, it is definitely better than staying. So what if they think we just can't wait to be alone so that we can make love again?

I couldn't care less. So I don’t let go of Peeta's hand.

Our families follow us, too. I guess Peeta and I weren't the only ones who found breakfast unbearable.

I have no idea how Peeta manages to talk to Johanna as if nothing’s out of the ordinary when she's stark naked save for her gold pumps, but he does. How can he ignore her breasts when they are practically in his face? I hope no one notices that I glance unhappily at Johanna's ass, which is, well... Perfect, really.

As we wait for the elevator, Mrs. Mellark – the _other_ Mrs. Mellark, as I am also Mrs. Mellark now, and the thought makes me queasy - hisses: "Have you no shame?" to Johanna.

Johanna just laughs and says: "No!" after which there is nothing left to say. Mrs. Mellark's mouth opens and closes several times, but not a single word comes out, which is a definite improvement.

Johanna gets off on the fourth floor, but just before she does, she whispers, nearly inaudibly, to Peeta and me: "Be careful, you two." She turns around to look at us before the elevator doors close between us. She's still only wearing her gold pumps with the impossibly high heels, but there is nothing funny or embarrassing about the warning in her eyes.

She knows something.

Why does everyone around here seem to know something that Peeta and I don't? Everything in the Capitol is a maze of secrets. Secrets my mother can't know about. Secrets no one is letting me in on.

Secrets that could potentially kill me. Or Prim. Or Peeta.

 


	2. The keeper of secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I suck at updating this story, sorry! Even though all the chapters are already written, and cross-posting it here on AO3 shouldn't really take that long, editing 40 chapters that were written more than a year ago is a pretty daunting task. It's much more tempting to write on my WIPs instead, so I keep putting off updating TOM. :P So, if you want to read the rest of this fic anytime soon, I suggest you head over to FFN. 
> 
> I'm actually making bigger changes to the chapters than I'd thought I would, though. If you've read this fic before, you might notice some differences. Hopefully you'll like them. :)

When Peeta and I finally get back to our room, it looks as if we were never there in the first place. There are no reminders of what happened last night. Everything is almost eerily clean, and the bed looks like it has never been slept in. Our two bags are the only things that look out of place. They contain the 12 clothes which we wear on the train, but never here in the Capitol. They are of course far too plain for that. The bags look pretty shaggy and worn compared to the luxurious, yet perfectly impersonal, honeymoon suite. I lie down on the bed, my body shaking. Johanna's eyes are still haunting me.

We are playing a game here, but no one's told me the rules. In a way, in the Hunger Games it was actually easier - it was kill or be killed. At least I knew what was expected of me. What are the rules now?

Then I realize they must have changed the bed sheets, too. The new ones are crisp and fresh and white. I blush, wondering just what they are going to do with the blood stained one from yesterday. Will they auction it? Give it to one of our top sponsors from the Hunger Games? Or something even worse?

Peeta lies down next to me and puts his arms around me. He holds me close, and I start crying. Heavy, deep sobs. He doesn't say anything, he just holds me, stroking my back and my hair.

Peeta is good with words, but he also knows when there is nothing to say.

Finally, there are no tears left. We lie there for a long time in silence, together. "What do we do now?" I whisper to him.

"We go home to 12 and live our lives," he answers. I wish it were that easy. Peeta, too, must know that it isn’t.

There's a knock on the door. We try to ignore it, but whoever it is doesn't go away. After the third knock, a playful voice says through the door: "Hey there lovebirds, it's me, Finnick. It doesn't matter if you're not decent, nothing you could be doing would shock me, anyway."

Cursing under his breath, Peeta gets out of bed to open the door.

"There you are, kids," he says. He has a hickey on his neck that he didn't have two hours ago. His hair is disheveled, and his eyes are hollow. Both Peeta and I know what he's been doing.

He sees me lying in bed, my eyes red-rimmed, but thankfully, he doesn’t comment on the way I look. “I just wanted to see you before you're off to 12."

I get out of bed, too, and automatically, my hand finds Peeta’s. I study the hickey on Finnick’s neck. He doesn’t look away.

Finnick knows something, too. It’s not just Johanna. There is more.

"It's not about money anymore, is it, Finnick?"

He shakes his head. “It never was. Not for me, anyway. It was all about survival at first. And then…” His voice trails off.

"What do the Capitolites offer you in return for your... services?"

"Secrets." His sea green eyes meet mine, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Finnick knows all too well how to hide his emotions.

This surprises me. "You get paid in… secrets?"

"Yes. Well, Snow gets paid in money too, of course... But all my clients know that they'll get much more value for their money if they add something _more_. Something that is just for me."

I don't want to think about just what that "value for their money” actually involves. "I bet there's a lot you could tell us."

"Oh, there is. But I won't."

This time, the truth is in his eyes, though. He  _can't_  tell us, it's not that he doesn't want to. Finnick knows these rooms are bugged, too. He probably took a big risk just coming here. Unless Snow already knows what he's telling us?

"I just wanted to make sure that you're careful," he says. "Stay safe, Mrs. Mockingjay."

"Mockingjay?" I'm confused. What is he talking about?

"You don't even know about the Mockingjay?" He cocks an eyebrow. "You have to start to pay attention, Katniss. Peeta's learning how to play the game, but you… You have to open your eyes. Why do you think your honeymoon was cancelled on such short notice?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but Peeta has a weird look on his face.

Finnick sighs glances at the expensive looking watch on his wrist and sighs. “I need to go. Busy, busy day.” He runs his index finger along the line of my jaw. I can’t hide a gasp as my body instinctively reacts to his touch, and I hate myself for it. Finnick’s pupils dilate slightly. “I know Snow threatened you to do what you did last night, and I’m sincerely sorry. Remember, though… you think that you know what's at stake here - but you're wrong." His index finger touches my lips lightly, and then it touches his own.

Don’t speak.

He turns to Peeta. "Stay safe. Both of you. I’ll see you at the 76th Annual Hunger Games.” He smiles, and says: “May the odds be ever in your favor."

After Finnick has left, Peeta and I just stand there in silence, stunned.


	3. Going home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The problem with revisiting my old fics is that I hate my own writing! *lol* As a result, I’ve had to do a lot more editing than I’d thought, so it’s probably going to take me quite some time to get through all the 40 chapters. 
> 
> Other updates that are coming up:  
> TMW: I hope to post the next chapter next week, but no promises.  
> 7 Steps is going to be updated on Diwali, which is October 23!  
> Chapter three of Everclear is almost ready to be beta'ed, and chapter four is also in the works. I know it's been forever since we updated, but chapter three is not only super smutty, it's also really long, so I hope it's worth the wait!

When we board the train in the afternoon, a cheering crowd of Capitolites is there to see us off. The roar is deafening as Peeta, by popular demand, kisses me. I can feel his anger and frustration in the kiss, but I know it’s almost over, and that’s all that’s keeping me on my feet right now. That, and Peeta’s steadying presence. I'm absolutely exhausted, and when the train doors silently slide shut behind us, I exhale in relief. My knees are shaking.

“Are you okay, Katniss?” Peeta looks worried as he studies my face. “You’re so pale.” He quickly steers me into the lounge compartment, and gives me a glass of ice cold water after I’ve sat down on the couch. My mother and Prim follow us, but Peeta's family, as well as the Hawthornes, have gone to their rooms. Haymitch probably headed straight for the bar.

"What's going on?" My mother says as the door closes behind us and we are alone. She looks worried, too.

My hands are shaking so badly I spill a few drops of water on my dress. I look up at her. "It's just been a few really long days." Which is not a lie, but it's not the whole truth, either.

She narrows her eyes. "What did Snow say to you in the limo?"

I can’t hide my surprise. My mother seems to start to understand how the Capitol works. I wish neither she nor Prim had to understand, but perhaps they'll be more careful if they know at least parts of what's going on. This is not the time or the place, though. I have to weigh my words carefully. “The President reminded me of my place, and my duties as a victor.”

She nods slowly. Her eyes dart over to Peeta, then back to me.

"What happened last night?"

I pale, and Peeta's hand finds mine. "Nothing that wouldn't have happened eventually anyway," I finally whisper. Peeta squeezes my hand, but doesn’t say anything.

I've rarely seen my mother angry. I've seen her happy – with my father, so long ago. After my father died, I've seen her heartbroken, devastated, and nearly suicidal. I've also seen her only exist, not really living, just an empty shell - for year after year. But I’ve never seen her angry, not until now. "Katniss, what is that man doing to you two?"

"It was Peeta or the highest bidder," I whisper.

I meet her eyes, and I gasp. Her Town blue eyes are on fire.

I suddenly see myself in her. I'm not like my father. I don't have his loving disposition or his positive outlook on life. I am like my mother - I see my own strengths and weaknesses reflected in her. It's scary to look into the eyes of my mother, who I resented and even despised at times because I found her weak, because she betrayed her daughters when we needed her the most - and realize that I'm like her.

"So much for victors living in luxury for the rest of their lives," my mother finally says. Peeta is staring at the floor, as if ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Everdeen", he says. He looks like he's close to tears, too.

"Don't be. None of this is your fault. I saw you two this morning, and I saw that you were… different from the day before. But in a good way. The way Katniss looked at you... I hoped it meant that…" Her voice trails off.

"Mom, this is important," I say insistently. You have to be careful." I make a discreet gesture in the direction of the nearest wall. My mother frowns, but then she nods. I think she understands. "You need to be careful when we come home, too. Don't talk about any of this, not to anyone. Peeta and I will be alright. Okay?"

Her face tells me that nothing about this is okay, but she still nods.

 

* * *

 

 

With every passing minute, we get further away from the Capitol. And as we get closer to home, I feel the tension slowly leaving in my body. After dinner, we are all in the lounge. Even Haymitch has left the bar, but he still has a glass in his hand. Peeta and I sit on a plush red velvet couch together. My feet are drawn up under me, and I lean on him. His steady heartbeat underneath my ear lulls me to sleep.

I am swimming in a sea of white roses. The thorns pierce through my skin, all over my body, and my blood stains the roses red. I try to stay afloat, but no matter what I do, I sink. The synthetic smell is overpowering, and then white petals enter my mouth, my nose. I can't breathe. I'm suffocating. I want to scream, to gasp for air, but I can't. The petals are drawn into my lungs, as I desperately fight for survival.

"Katniss! Katniss!" Peeta is shaking me. "It's just a dream! It's not real! Wake up!" All of them stand around me. Peeta's family. My family. Gale and his family, Effie.

Haymitch, too. He looks older than I've ever seen him. So tired.

Peeta's holding me, and I break down in his arms. My throat is sore, and I realize it's not from nearly being drowned in rose petals, it's from me screaming my head off. I am mortified that they all witnessed this.

The tension of the last few weeks is finally released, and my body shakes from violent sobs as I cry against Peeta's chest.

"Peeta, why don't you take her to your room?" Haymitch suggests gently, with a hand on his shoulder. He wisely doesn’t touch me. I suppose he's no stranger to nightmares. "Do you need some sleeping pills?"

I shake my head. "They make it worse," Peeta says, his voice low. "She’ll just get trapped in the dream longer."

He should know. He has nightmares, too.

I pass Peeta’s mother as we leave. She gives me a cold look, but doesn’t say anything. I’m mortified that she, of all people, witnessed my nightmares.

I sit down on the bed in what is now officially our compartment. Before, Peeta and I used to have separate compartments, but everyone knew that we’d always sleep together anyway. They just didn’t bring it up, except Effie, who would sometimes mutter something under her breath about our sleeping arrangements being “not proper”. We don’t have to pretend anymore now that we are married, though.

"Your mother hates me," I say to him.

"Oh, she hates everyone from the Seam," Peeta says and rolls his eyes. "Don't take it personally."

"But it is personal.”

Peeta doesn’t answer right away. “Yes, it is,” he finally agrees.

A long time ago, his father was in love with my mother. But she chose my father, the miner with the heavenly voice, instead of the merchant baker. Peeta's mother can never forget or forgive that she was her husband’s second choice. And now her youngest son is married to the daughter of the only woman her husband has ever loved.

He helps me take off my clothes, my body feels so numb that I’m not even sure if I can lift my arms. There is nothing sexual about him taking off my dress, it's like he's helping a child.

As he tucks me in, he says, "Try to sleep, Katniss. We're going home now. You'll feel better in the morning."

I nod. With every mile that separates me from the Capitol, I feel better, even though I know I can never truly escape. "Stay with me," I whisper, and he smiles, stroking my hair.

"I'm not going anywhere, Katniss," he answers. He gets into bed with me. He holds me in his arms and whispers loving words to me until I start to fall asleep.

We're going home.

 

* * *

 

 

I wake up to the sound of the train as it exits a tunnel. The morning sun is shining in through the window. Peeta is awake. His face looks gaunt and drawn.

This is the second morning we wake up together as husband and wife.

"Did you have nightmares?" I ask him as I trace the line of his jaw with one finger.

“Yes.”

"Did you get any sleep at all?"

He shrugs. "Here and there. I've mostly been watching you sleep, though." Watching over me. Always trying to keep me safe. "Did you have any more nightmares after the one earlier?"

Memories from last night come back to me. I should've known better. I shouldn't have fallen asleep among so many people, most of whom knew nothing about my – our – nightmares. I wonder what they are all thinking now. Especially Peeta’s mother. Not only is her son married to a scowling Seam girl who knows nothing about cooking and cleaning, she also screams her head off in her sleep.

I shake my head. No more nightmares that I can remember, anyway. He kisses my forehead lightly. "I didn’t think so. You looked so peaceful.” He pauses. “How are you feeling? About everything." I can tell it's hard for him to ask that question, and it's difficult for me to answer it, too.

"I'm still trying to process everything. It's all pretty overwhelming."

"For me, too. I just wanted to know if we were, you know, okay. With what… happened on our wedding night." His voice is hesitant, and there is fear in his eyes.

I'm scared, too.

"I'm angry that we were put in that situation,” I say hesitatingly. “It’s something that should have happened at a time and place that we chose.”

“So you really think we would’ve done that eventually?  Like you said to your mother?”

“It was always going to be you,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “No, that’s not true. If Prim hadn’t been reaped, do you think we would’ve ever gotten married?”

I think about how he never dared to tell me about his feelings for me. And how I swore I would never get married, never have children that could be reaped. He has a fair point. I shrug. “Probably not,” I admit. “But it did happen, so there’s no point in thinking about what if’s.” I take his hand. “I think that we did the best that we could, considering the circumstances. And if it had to be anyone, I’m glad that it was you."

His body stiffens, and I know that I’ve hurt him. Again. I’m so bad with words.  “I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

"No, it’s okay. I understand what you mean. I’m sorry, too.” He kisses my forehead. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” He bites his lip, he looks flushed. “I hope I didn't do anything – too quickly? I mean, I know it hurt, and…" His voice trails off

"It didn't hurt that much, really," I smile shyly. It's hard to look him in the eye now. Talking about how I feel is bad enough, but talking about sex? It’s not something I’ve ever discussed with anyone. I clear my throat. “After a while, it started to feel… good. Really good.”

"Do you think we'll… do it again sometime?" I can barely hear his voice now, his whisper is so low.

I lean in to kiss him. "Yes," I whisper. "Not now, but… Later. When it feels right and it's just us."

His fingers are combing through my hair, again and again. “Yes,” he breathes. "Katniss, I know that you don’t feel the same way about me that I do about you. I know this is sudden. But I just want you to know that if you need time, or feel that we're… too much... Please let me know? Okay?"

I suddenly realize how difficult it must be for him, to get married to the girl he always dreamed of, knowing that it's something she was forced to do. “Okay.”

We lie in bed together until we can’t ignore the growls of our stomachs anymore.


End file.
